Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 14: "Unspoken Connections"

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm amber glow over the village, the wind carried the faint scent of earth and distant cooking fires. The sky deepened into a dusky violet, streaked with fading gold.

Billy stretched his arms above his head, exhaling contentedly. "Alright, I think I've teased you enough for one day. Let's head back before Mr. Dand starts thinking we've run off."

Artur scoffed. "You're the one who keeps dragging things out."

Billy smirked. "And yet, you never leave first."

Artur didn't dignify that with an answer, simply standing up and dusting off his clothes. Billy followed suit, shaking loose strands of grass from his pants.

They walked side by side down the dirt path leading home, the village lanterns flickering to life one by one. Soft voices carried through the air—neighbors exchanging evening pleasantries, the occasional bark of a dog, the rhythmic creak of a wooden gate swinging shut.

Billy inhaled deeply. "Evenings here are nice. Peaceful."

Artur hummed in agreement, hands tucked into his pockets. "Yeah. They are."

Billy glanced at him, his expression thoughtful. "You ever think about leaving?"

Artur's steps slowed slightly. He turned his gaze forward, as if weighing the question. "I used to."

Billy tilted his head. "And now?"

A pause. Then, Artur exhaled through his nose. "Not really."

Billy didn't pry. He just let the words settle between them as they continued walking.

By the time they reached home, the sky had darkened into a deep navy blue, speckled with the first twinkling stars. Warm light spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow onto the porch.

Mr. Dand was already inside, setting out dishes for dinner. He glanced up as they stepped in. "Took your time, didn't you?"

Billy grinned. "We had a lot to talk about."

Artur rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes. "More like you talked, and I tolerated it."

Mr. Dand chuckled. "Sounds about right. Wash up and come eat."

Billy stretched again, feeling a pleasant exhaustion settle into his limbs. The evening had been unexpectedly nice, the teasing and laughter making the weight on his chest feel a little lighter.

And as he glanced at Artur—who, despite his usual grumbles, hadn't actually left his side all day—Billy realized something.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone as he thought.

Billy washed up quickly, the cool water refreshing against his skin. As he stepped back into the main room, the rich aroma of the evening meal filled the air—something warm and hearty, carrying the comforting scent of spices.

Artur was already seated, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair, watching Mr. Dand place the last dish on the table. His usual quietness had returned, but there was something more at ease in his posture, something... settled.

Billy plopped down beside him, nudging his shoulder. "Tired of tolerating me yet?"

Artur huffed. "Close."

Mr. Dand chuckled as he took his seat. "You two bicker like an old married couple."

Billy grinned. "He wishes."

Artur shot him a look but didn't argue, which only made Billy's smirk widen.

They dug into their meal, the warmth of the food matching the quiet comfort in the room. Mr. Dand talked about a few village matters, mentioning someone who'd stopped by earlier looking for help with their roof before the rainy season set in.

Billy listened, occasionally sneaking glances at Artur. There was something about sharing a meal like this—simple, unhurried—that made everything feel a little more real. Like he was part of something, even if just for now.

After they finished eating, Billy leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. "That was good. I could get used to this."

Mr. Dand chuckled. "Then don't go making yourself sick again. I need an extra set of hands tomorrow."

Billy grinned. "I'm perfectly fine now. Ready to work."

Artur gave him a side glance. "You say that, but you were burning up just this morning."

Billy waved a hand dismissively. "Minor setback."

Artur rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—something Billy caught before Artur could mask it. Concern, maybe. Or something close to it.

Billy felt an odd warmth settle in his chest. He ignored it.

Instead, he turned to Mr. Dand. "Since I'm in perfect health now, anything I should know about tomorrow's work?"

Mr. Dand nodded. "We'll start early. Fixing a fence in the morning, then helping with the harvest in the afternoon."

Billy pretended to groan. "Early? You people wake up way too soon."

Artur smirked. "Then go to bed early."

Billy opened his mouth for a comeback, but Mr. Dand stood up before he could say anything.

"Alright, enough chattering. You two clean up. I'm heading to bed."

Billy blinked. "Wait, why do we have to clean up now?"

"Because you have to, and you two were the last ones to stop eating," Mr. Dand said with a knowing smile before walking away.

Billy groaned, slumping in his chair. "Betrayal."

Artur stood, picking up a few dishes. "Hurry up."

Billy sighed dramatically, dragging his feet as he picked up a plate. "Slave labor," he muttered under his breath.

Artur shot him a dry look from the sink. "You could just not eat so much next time."

Billy gasped. "How dare you suggest such a thing?" He held the plate to his chest like it was a sacred relic. "Food is meant to be enjoyed."

"Then enjoy cleaning up," Artur deadpanned, handing him a dripping wet dish.

Billy took it with a grumble, rolling up his sleeves as he stood beside Artur at the small sink. The warm water ran over his fingers, the scent of soap mixing with the lingering aroma of dinner. The room was quiet, aside from the soft clatter of dishes and the occasional scrape of a spoon against a bowl.

The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt... easy. A rare kind of quiet Billy wasn't sure he had experienced much before.

Then, just because he could, he flicked a few drops of water toward Artur's arm.

Artur stilled. Slowly, he turned his head to Billy. "Did you just—"

Billy tried to look innocent, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Oops."

Before he could react, a flick of water hit his cheek—precise, merciless.

Billy blinked. "You—"

Another splash.

"Artur—!"

He barely had time to shield himself before Artur, with alarming speed and accuracy, flicked more water his way. Billy yelped, stepping back and nearly knocking over a cup.

"Okay, okay, truce!" he laughed, raising his hands in surrender.

Artur smirked, shaking off the remaining droplets from his fingers like he hadn't just launched a full-scale attack.

Billy wiped at his damp cheek, grinning. "I see how it is. You fight dirty."

"You started it."

"Technicalities."

They ended up making more of a mess than necessary, but for some reason, Billy didn't mind.

And even though they made more of a mess than necessary, Billy didn't mind one bit.

As they finished up, the house grew quieter, the weight of the day settling over them.

Billy stretched again. "Guess I should sleep early if I'm waking up at an ungodly hour."

Artur raised a brow. "You say that, but you'll just end up talking half the night."

Billy smirked. "What can I say? Some people talk more when it's just the two of us."

Artur paused. Then, with a small shake of his head, he muttered, "Go to bed, Billy."

Billy laughed, heading off to his room. But before he stepped inside, he glanced back, catching Artur watching him for just a second before he turned away.

Billy didn't say anything. But as he settled into bed, he found himself smiling.

Maybe this place was starting to feel a little bit like home.

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Morning Routine

The golden hues of dawn filtered through the windows, casting soft, shifting patterns on the wooden floor. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and freshly turned soil. Outside, the distant sound of birds and rustling leaves signaled the quiet awakening of the village.

Billy stirred under his blanket, shifting onto his side as he blinked at the faint light creeping into the room. He groaned, rubbing his face before finally pushing himself up. His limbs still felt sluggish from sleep, and for a moment, he debated lying back down.

But the smell of breakfast teased his senses, drawing him out of bed.

As he stepped into the main room, the familiar warmth of the morning filled the space. Mr. Dand stood by the stove, stirring something fragrant, while Artur sat at the table, already sipping from a wooden cup. His posture was relaxed, but the faint crease between his brows suggested he was still shaking off the remnants of sleep.

Billy ran a hand through his messy hair and yawned. "Morning."

Mr. Dand glanced at him. "Morning. You finally up?"

Artur barely looked up. "Barely."

Billy shot him a lazy smirk. "You say that like you were any faster."

Artur lifted his cup slightly. "I was."

Billy scoffed but didn't argue. Instead, he slid into the seat across from Artur, eyeing the steaming food on the table.

"Eat while it's warm," Mr. Dand said, setting a plate in front of him.

Billy didn't need to be told twice. He picked up his spoon and took a bite, savoring the comforting taste.

A quiet hum of satisfaction escaped him. "Okay, this makes waking up worth it."

Artur huffed. "You act like waking up is a life-or-death battle."

"It is when the bed is that comfortable."

Mr. Dand chuckled as he sat down with his own plate. "Good to know you're well-rested. We'll be busy today."

Billy sighed dramatically, slumping slightly. "Yeah, yeah. Hard labor, sweat, and exhaustion. Looking forward to it."

Artur smirked. "Try not to complain too much. You'll scare the cows."

Billy nudged his foot under the table. "I'll complain as much as I want."

"Then I'll ignore you as much as I want."

Billy rolled his eyes but kept eating. Despite the teasing, the morning felt oddly... peaceful.

Starting the Day

After finishing breakfast, the three of them cleaned up quickly. Billy stretched his arms above his head, trying to shake off the last bit of drowsiness as he followed Artur outside. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh grass. The sky had fully brightened now, soft streaks of clouds lazily drifting across the blue expanse.

Artur walked ahead, his usual steady pace making Billy quicken his steps to catch up.

"So, where are we starting?" Billy asked, rolling his shoulders as they neared the wooden fences surrounding the farmland.

"Fixing the fence first," Artur replied, glancing at him. "Then we move to the fields in the afternoon."

Billy groaned. "Can't we switch it? You know, start with the lighter work?"

"No," Artur deadpanned.

Billy sighed dramatically. "You really have no sympathy, huh?"

Artur smirked slightly. "Not for people who whine before even starting."

Billy huffed but didn't argue. He looked over at the fence, noticing some of the wooden posts were slightly crooked, others looking as if they'd barely withstand a strong push.

"I guess this actually does need fixing," he admitted, stepping closer. "So, what's the plan? Do we just start hammering things until they stay in place?"

Artur gave him a flat look. "Do you even know how to hold a hammer properly?"

Billy gasped in mock offense. "I'll have you know, I have excellent hammer-holding skills."

"Right."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "You doubt me? Fine, hand it over. Let me show you."

Artur passed him the hammer without a word, then crossed his arms, waiting.

Billy gripped it confidently, squaring his shoulders as he aimed for the loose wooden post. He raised the hammer, ready to strike—

—and completely missed the nail.

Artur blinked. "...Huh."

Billy cleared his throat. "That was a warm-up swing."

"Uh-huh."

Billy quickly swung again, this time hitting the nail but at an awkward angle, making it bend. He froze.

Artur exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You call that excellent?"

"I—okay, maybe I need a second try."

"Step aside." Artur took the hammer from his hand with a smirk. "Before you destroy the fence instead of fixing it."

Billy groaned but stepped back, watching as Artur effortlessly lifted the hammer and drove the nail into place with precise, fluid motions. The dull thud of metal against wood echoed through the quiet morning.

Billy sighed. "Yeah, yeah, show-off."

Artur didn't respond, but Billy caught the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips.

"Just watch and learn," Artur said. "You might actually get it right next time."

Billy rolled his eyes but found himself watching closely anyway. There was something oddly calming about the rhythm of the work, the steady way Artur moved—focused and completely at ease.

Maybe, just maybe, fixing fences wouldn't be so bad.

Billy stood beside Artur, watching the way he worked—the way his hands moved with practiced ease, the way his brows furrowed slightly in focus. It was strange, really. Billy had never paid attention to such things before, but now, in the quiet of the morning, with nothing but the soft chirping of birds in the distance, he found himself staring.

Artur must have felt it because he glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly. "What?"

Billy blinked, caught off guard. "What, what?"

"You're staring."

Billy huffed, crossing his arms. "Can't a guy admire expert craftsmanship?"

Artur snorted. "Since when do you care about craftsmanship?"

"Since I realized you have a talent other than looking annoyed all the time," Billy teased, smirking.

Artur shook his head, turning back to the fence. "You talk too much."

Billy didn't reply immediately. Instead, he reached for another wooden plank, stepping closer. Their hands brushed—just for a second—but it was enough to make Billy pause. It wasn't like they hadn't touched before, but something about it felt... different now. Like there was an unspoken weight behind it.

Artur didn't move away. He didn't even react at first, but Billy swore he saw the way his fingers flexed slightly as if resisting the urge to pull back.

The air felt heavier between them, the warmth of their proximity sinking into Billy's skin. He should say something. He should crack a joke, tease Artur again—anything to break whatever this was.

But he didn't.

Instead, he cleared his throat and grabbed the plank, his fingers lingering against Artur's just a second longer than necessary before he stepped back.

"You really don't mind doing all this work?" Billy asked after a beat, keeping his tone light.

Artur exhaled, adjusting his grip on the hammer. "It's not about whether I mind. It has to be done."

Billy tilted his head, watching him again. "You're always like that, huh?"

"Like what?"

"Just... steady. You don't hesitate. You just do what needs to be done."

Artur paused mid-swing, his grip tightening on the handle. He didn't look at Billy, but something about the air shifted.

"Someone has to," he finally said, his voice quieter.

Billy frowned slightly. He wasn't sure why, but those words tugged at something deep inside him. Like there was more to them—something left unsaid.

And for the first time, Billy didn't want to tease him.

He just wanted to understand him.

So instead of making another joke, he picked up a nail and held it in place for Artur. "Alright. Let's do it, then."

Artur glanced at him, as if surprised by the sincerity in his tone. But then, slowly, he nodded.

And as they continued working side by side, their hands brushing every so often, their quiet rhythm falling into sync, Billy realized something.

Maybe it wasn't just the morning air making his chest feel so warm.

Something Unspoken

Billy worked beside Artur with an unusual level of focus, his usual teasing absent. He was serious—determined even—matching Artur's pace as they secured the fence together. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over them, and the air carried the scent of fresh earth and wood.

Artur wasn't used to this side of Billy. He was used to the playful remarks, the relentless teasing—but now, Billy was quiet, his brows slightly furrowed as he held a wooden plank steady.

"Hold it right there," Artur muttered, lifting the hammer.

Billy obeyed without question, gripping the plank tightly. His arms flexed slightly, the muscles in his forearms tensing as he braced against the force of Artur's strike. Artur found his gaze lingering—just for a second—before he quickly looked away, scolding himself internally.

Focus.

They continued working in sync, nailing the wood in place one by one. But then, just as Artur finished securing a particularly stubborn piece, he felt it—

A hand.

Not just any touch.

Billy's fingers, warm and firm, trailing down the back of Artur's hand, slow and deliberate. Not accidental. Not fleeting.

Artur stiffened, his breath caught in his throat.

Billy didn't pull away immediately. Instead, his fingertips lingered, brushing lightly over Artur's knuckles before his hand slid away as if nothing had happened.

But it had happened.

Artur's pulse hammered in his ears. It was ridiculous—he'd never reacted this way before. Not to a simple touch. And yet, something about it sent a jolt straight through his chest, leaving a strange, unfamiliar flutter in its wake.

Billy, as if sensing the shift, finally looked up, his eyes meeting Artur's. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something knowing, something unspoken.

Neither of them said anything. The sound of the hammer hitting wood had long since faded, leaving only the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.

Artur swallowed, forcing himself to look away, to pick up another nail, to do something. But his fingers trembled slightly as he reached for it.

Billy noticed.

And for the first time, he didn't tease.

He just smiled.

A Quiet Moment Among Friends

With the last plank secured, Artur exhaled, pushing back his damp hair. "That should hold for a while," he muttered, stepping back to inspect their work.

Billy, arms crossed, nodded in satisfaction. "Not bad. I think we make a pretty good team."

Artur scoffed. "Don't get used to it."

Billy smirked but didn't argue. Instead, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. The sun had climbed higher, the morning work leaving both of them drained but oddly content.

Mr. Dand passed by, nodding approvingly. "Good work, boys. You've earned a break."

Taking that as permission, they made their way toward the village market, where a few of Artur's acquaintances were already gathered. The market wasn't too busy yet, with vendors setting up stalls filled with fresh vegetables, woven baskets, and small trinkets.

Artur spotted a familiar group near a shaded spot and gestured for Billy to follow. They settled onto a wooden bench,joining in the idle chatter.

"Looks like you survived another day of work, Artur," one of the guys teased, nudging him.

Artur rolled his eyes. "Barely."

Billy, sitting beside him, leaned back lazily. "You should be thanking me. I carried the whole operation."

The group chuckled. One of the girls, Leena, raised a brow. "You two seem closer than before."

Artur stiffened slightly, but Billy, ever the smooth talker, grinned. "What can I say? He's starting to appreciate my charm."

Artur shot him a glare. "That's not what's happening."

The group laughed again, and the conversation drifted to other topics—local news, upcoming village events, and everyday gossip.

Billy found himself strangely comfortable. The air was light, the sun warm but not overbearing, and for the first time in a long while, he wasn't thinking too much. He just was.

He glanced at Artur, who was listening quietly to the conversation, his usual guarded expression slightly more relaxed.

Billy smirked, nudging him. "You should smile more. You don't look so scary when you do."

Artur shot him a look but said nothing, just shaking his head with the faintest hint of amusement.

And for some reason, that made Billy grin even wider.

The conversation around them flowed easily, drifting from lighthearted jokes to stories about the village's past. Billy listened, occasionally throwing in a teasing remark that made the others laugh, but his attention kept drifting back to Artur.

It was subtle—the way Artur sat a little closer than before, the way his usual tense posture had eased ever so slightly.

Billy nudged him again. "You know, for someone who acts all tough, you're actually pretty soft."

Artur turned his head slowly, arching a brow. "Soft?"

Billy smirked. "Yeah. You're not as grumpy as you pretend to be."

Artur scoffed, leaning back against the bench. "You really don't know when to stop talking, do you?"

Billy grinned. "Nope."

The sun had shifted lower, casting a golden hue over the market. A warm breeze swept through, carrying the scent of fresh bread from a nearby stall. Billy stretched his arms behind his head, sighing contentedly.

"You ever think about leaving this place?" he asked suddenly.

Artur blinked at him. "What?"

Billy tilted his head, watching the villagers move about. "I mean, do you ever think about going somewhere else? Seeing what's out there?"

Artur was quiet for a moment. "Not really."

Billy turned to look at him fully. "Why not?"

Artur exhaled, his gaze flickering toward the horizon. "This is home."

Billy studied him, something unspoken settling between them.

For a moment, there was no teasing, no banter—just the weight of something real.

And Artur, maybe for the first time, let him see it.

Billy felt something shift in his chest.

He wasn't sure what it was yet.

But it was there.

Billy stretched his arms, groaning dramatically. "I'm starving. How do you people survive working all day without eating every two hours?"

Artur gave him a side glance. "We eat when we need to, not when we feel like it."

Billy scoffed. "Well, I need to eat, right now." He placed a hand over his stomach, sighing. "If I collapse from hunger, just know it's your fault."

Artur rolled his eyes but stood up. "Fine. There's a small place nearby."

Billy grinned. "Now you're talking."

They made their way through the bustling village, the scent of grilled meat and freshly baked bread guiding them to a cozy little restaurant tucked between two shops. The place wasn't big—just a few wooden tables and benches under a slanted roof—but it was lively. People chatted over their meals, the hum of conversation mixing with the occasional clang of pots from the kitchen.

Artur led the way, picking a quiet corner. Billy sat across from him, leaning forward. "So, what's good here?"

Artur didn't even look at the menu. "Just get whatever. It's all decent."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "That's not helpful."

With a sigh, Artur finally pointed at a dish. "That one. It's simple but filling."

Billy nodded and ordered the same, watching as Artur leaned back against the bench. The light from a nearby lantern flickered across his face, casting shadows over his sharp features. For a moment, Billy just looked at him.

Artur caught the stare. "What?"

Billy smirked. "Nothing. Just wondering how many people have sat across from you like this."

Artur frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Billy shrugged, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. "You don't strike me as someone who sits and eats with just anyone."

Artur didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked toward the kitchen, his expression unreadable. "I don't."

Billy's smirk softened slightly. "Then I feel special."

Artur clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

Before Billy could tease him further, their food arrived. The aroma made Billy's stomach growl, and he wasted no time digging in. The first bite was warm, rich, and perfectly seasoned. His eyes widened.

"Oh—this is good."

Artur simply ate in silence, but Billy caught the tiny twitch of his lips—the ghost of a smile he wasn't quite showing.

They ate quietly for a while, the sounds of the village filling the spaces between them. But despite the simplicity of the meal, despite the ordinary setting, something about this moment felt... different.

Comfortable.

Billy didn't say it out loud.

But he felt it.

After finishing their meal, Billy stretched with a satisfied sigh. "Alright, now I'm ready to work."

Artur arched an eyebrow. "You're only saying that because you're full."

Billy grinned. "Exactly."

Shaking his head, Artur stood up. "Come on, let's not keep the others waiting."